Rustlings

By P. T. CannB-Hammond Lumber Company.

o* arnong Nature's first born.

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Reared. in the arms of Mother Earth, I stand os a silent sentinel King of Nature's garden am I.

'Prolific i.n my offspring, my seed,lings are zuinged to grassy slope and mountai.n sid.e native of all land.s am I.

I am a hanest as the grain of the fi,eld, the fru'it of the aine, so I serzte 'in zuond,rous uays.

I arn decoratizte. Deft chiselling models me to artistic lines I embelli.sh and, ad,orn. And when rny hand-hezued, beaws are there, Man's horne brea.thes of the great out-doors, of ageless forests, of the rnusic of rustling boughs.

Baby feet clinrb my golden stairs, little hands gras| nry bqlustrad,e I am the winding zaay to Slurwberland,.

By night, by day, I atn the protector against the raaages of storm and utind the trernblings of the earth I resist I arn a Nation's roof I ant, th,e foundation, the support unseen my sineu,s yield, not to the zueighted load.

And. though I fall, I still liae on, mry usefulness to fulfill.

I am perpetuated by Mon I atn eternal through the years:

For uhen I go to build Shelter and to protect, my fomily still su.n,iz,e. For at rny feet hard'y sons are born to live and, sente.

Proud, is he zaho builds of me, for I ano Home. I arn Hosfitality at his door-I am silent Comfort from ai.thin.

I gizte walls of ri,chest hues and, craftsmen's hands d.esign rne to harmonious forrns.

I ano the foot-path of the hovne, absorbing the shocks of falling things, resilient to the heovy Ioad., endwring the ceaseless tread' of feet still preseraing nt'^1 beattteous grain.

Three score years and ten the age of Man. My bough,s were sturdy when Egypt first avtoke, a,hen tlrc aoya'ger fi'rst cruised uncharted seas, zuhen Roman power did' hold sway.

And still I stand erect itt dress of var'ieel hues, mellowed. by the centuries, ne'er fadi'ng with the years.

Man, I have serzted hbn well, given bountifully of my yield tlesigned by the Great Architect, I shall go on forezter.

I am a treb'